Narrator: The explosion was predictably horrific, scattering body parts and bits of armored carrier we'd belly-loaded with putty with equal effectiveness. Enemy one: no factor. Anymore.
[two people huddling behind a mountain while explosion happens in background.]
Narrator: Our second enemy, though--the bitter cold, and our lack of sufficient shelter and clothing--the approaching night could kill us far more easily and fearlessly than any mortal...
[one person, looks to be some rope, same mountain, smouldering fire from explosion.]
Narrator: Equal parts miracle and curse, we found our defense against the cold...through some freakish turn, most of our dispatched foes' outer clothes were useable...the curse was that body parts still occupied them...nothing teaches you "life is an ugly compromise" like removing detached hands from precious, warm gloves.
[person smoking cigarette, other person, bloody hand on ground.]
BoxJam: Where are the kids?
Ms. BoxJam: It's the cutest thing...they've been dressing his G.I. Joe's in her old doll clothes for over an hour.
[Ms. BoxJam doing something indescernable on counter, BoxJam behind her.]